


Go Steady With Me

by allfifteenknuckles



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfifteenknuckles/pseuds/allfifteenknuckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're not friends, Mickey," Ian says, exasperated.<br/>"We <i>are</i>!" Mickey argues back. "We can be friends."<br/>Ian scoffs at that. "Friends share things you don't feel comfortable listening about, Mick."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're Not Friends

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [pyleas](http://pyleas.tumblr.com) for betaing <3

For the love of God Mickey could not figure out what brought this on. Here he is smoking at the dugouts for old times sake (trying to get away from a yelling wife and a crying baby), when a determined Ian comes his way. He looks like he is out of breath, and Mickey can’t help but notice the way Ian’s t-shirt is so wonderfully stretched over his broad shoulders. But Mickey knows that look on him, and he really, _really_ wants to start running in the opposite direction. Sometimes he wonders what sins he must have committed in his past life since he never catches a fucking break.

Ian and him had been perfectly fine for the past seven months. He actually thought they were doing incredibly well, considering the fact that they had broken up. Of course it was hard, trying to be friends with Ian; sometimes it took all of Mickey’s willpower to keep his hands to himself and not touch the redhead. Mickey’s self-resistance _used_ to be almost impeccable- he used to be so careful not to give Ian too much. The brunet was a master at keeping his feelings locked deep, _deep,_ within his full-sized aortic pumps, but ever since that first kiss he was a goner. And getting back to a place where he could pretend he didn’t want more from Ian was nearly impossible. But he was proud of them.

Well, at least that is, until Ian gives him that _look._ Mickey is well trained in the art of deciphering this particular Gallagher, and he just _knows_ that this means Ian wants to talk. He hates their ‘talks’. When-the-fuck-ever has talking gotten them _anywhere_? Mickey lets out a sigh as he squares his shoulders and stomps out his cigarette in order to prepare himself for the inevitable fall out.

*

“Hey, bud. What’s up?” Mickey cautiously probes as Ian nears him. Ian slowly shakes his head. He _hates_ that term.

“Stop calling me that, Mick,” Ian snaps at him.

“What?” Mickey asks, looking quite confused. The brunet’s face scrunches up, and Ian has to physically restrain himself from reaching out and cupping Mickey’s face.

“Bud. Pal. _Friend_ ,” Ian grits out. It had taken him a lot of thought and determination to actually come up here and have this conversation. He deteststhis stalemate that they have been in for the past couple of months. This pretense of friendship makes Ian’s guts squirm. He hates that he is constantly in the company of Mickey, and yet he isn’t _allowed_ to be with the brunet the way he wants to. “I don’t want to be friends.”

“Ian,” Mickey pleads. He looks so tired, and Ian feels terrible for bringing this up right now.

"We're not friends, Mickey," Ian says, exasperated.

"We _are_!" Mickey argues back. "We can be friends."

Ian scoffs at that. "Friends share things you don't feel comfortable listening about, Mick." They had resolved this argument last week, and Ian had conceded to keep certain things to himself, but he was feeling a bit ruthless right now.

“Really? We’re having _this_ fucking spat again?” Mickey asks, his voice raising. Fuck, Mickey was getting angry too now, and Ian knew that could never lead to good things.

“ _Yes_ ,” Ian insists.

"Can't you just- I mean- fuck I never tell you about who _I_ fuck. Just keep your personal shit to yourself!" Mickey forcefully tells Ian. The brunet’s fists are clenched and he looks determined to end this conversation before either of them says something they can’t take back.

"If I did that, then we wouldn't be _real_ friends now, would we?" Ian replies, slightly ticked of at the thought of Mickey with other people- other people he had no clue about.

“Goddammit Ian! Why does everything _always_ have to be so complicated with you?” Mickey asks.

But the thing is, Ian isn’t _trying_ to make this complicated. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It would be so much easier to go back to the way things were before they fucked it up. Ian can’t do this dipping-one-toe-in-the-water bullshit anymore. He wants to fucking dive-in headfirst and he just doesn’t get how Mickey doesn’t want to jump in with him. Fuck all the consequences. Sometimes he wonders if he was too much- too _intense-_ for Mickey.

“I’m not _trying_ to—I just—“ Ian starts.

"You're just trying to be difficult, Ian. Like fucking _always_. Ultimatums and all that shit. Making me choose," Mickey sighs, and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not fair." He mumbles quietly.

Ian feels a rush of guilt, but he stands firm. He knows what he wants. Mickey. It's always _Mickey_. And he knows they need to give this _thing_ between them another shot.

"I always fucking pick you, Ian," Mickey says softly. Ian knows that. And he hopes that it will work in his favor.

“I know,” Ian tells him.

"I _like_ knowing how you are. I just-fuck, man- I just need to know you're doing well," Mickey continues. He still cares about Ian. That's something, Ian figures.

"Please can we be friends. Or evenacquaintances, or anything really. Justdon't cut me out," Mickey pleads.

Well, that went in the wrong direction. He doesn't want that at all. But still: "We can't be friends, Mick. Not after all the shit we've been through. All the shit we've pulled." _All the ways we've fucked_ , Ian thinks to himself.

"Well, shit," Mickey replies, biting his lip. How Ian wishes he were biting Mickey's lips instead.

"I don't want to be friends. With you it's always more. Just _give_ me more, Mickey. Even if it's just a glimmer of hope that some day, even if it's in the distant future, things can go back to the way they were," Ian says softly. Mickey's eyes scan his face, looking for something. "I can wait."

Mickey sighs to himself. "No. I don't want you to. Don't wait for me because of some half-assed promise I don't know if I can deliver." Mickey paces around. "Just live your life, kid."

Ian frowns at that. He can feel his anger burning up and collecting. He knows he shouldn't speak now. He'll say something he regrets. Even this shell of a relationship he has left with Mickey might not be an option. But he can't control it. He sucks at control. That's what got them in this situation in the first place.

"Fuck you, Mick. I don't want this. I _can't_ \- just go. We're done. That's what you wanted right?" Ian can feel his voice rising. He kicks the benches in front of him and it rattles extremely loudly.

Mickey just stares at the floor. Refuses to flinch. And obviously, that makes Ian more frustrated. There used to be a time Ian could get insane reactions out of Mickey.

"Ian..." Mickey starts.

"Don't. Just get out," Ian says, his voice failing to exude the calm he's trying so hard to maintain.

Mickey nods and heads out. Doesn't even look back once.

*

Mickey feels awful. They have walked away from each other so many times, but that never makes it any easier. And those _words_ \- they felt so foreign on his tongue. Encouraging Ian to find another person. He hates the thought of Ian riding off into the sunset without him. With someone else by his side. But even more than that, he hates Ian living his life alone and unhappy.

Mickey’s always been good at ruining the things he cares about, but this was different. He knows falling back into old patterns isn’t healthy for either of them. And Ian deserves better than that. Fuck, even _Mickey_ deserves better than that.

He kind of knew what the redhead was getting at. Sometimes even Mickey wanted _other_ things, but there was no way in hell he was going down that route again. Mickey knew Ian would come around, and it was better this way. They were good right now. Stable.

“You look terrible,” Mandy says as he walks in through their front door.

“You say the sweetest things,” Mickey snaps.

“God Grouch, what’s gotten you into this mood,” Mandy asks, warily.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Mickey insists.

“Mickey…”

“Why does _everyone_ want to talk all of a sudden? Keep things bottled up! It’s healthier,” Mickey replies as he sits down on the next to Mandy.

“I- I don’t unders-” Mandy begins to say.

“ _Ian_. He said some things,” Mickey grumbles. “He can’t just go around saying stuff. We’re _good_ now. Fucking finally.”

“Did you get into a fight with him?” Mandy inquires.

“ _He_ got into a fight with _me_. I didn’t do anything,” Mickey pointedly tells her.

“Technicalities,” Mandy waves off.

“I think we’re done for good,” Mickey whispers. This thought had been plaguing him the whole time he was walking home. He couldn’t imagine not having Ian in his life.

“With you two?” Mandy says, with a smirk. And it bugged him that Mandy didn’t get it. Mickey didn’t think they could recover from this.

“It was bad, Mands,” Mickey states.

“Mick…” Mandy shrugs, helplessly.

“Just tell me I’m right,” Mickey says.

“I don’t even fucking know what you guys were arguing about,” Mandy tells him. Mickey just glares at her. “Fine. You are right, Mick.” 

*

“I fucked up, Lip,” Ian mutters. He’s nursing a cold beer, sitting at the dining table.

“Story of your life,” Lip informs him.

“That was uncalled for,” Ian snaps.

“Sorry,” Lip mumbles. Ian knows that Lip is _trying_ to be considerate. Lip tends to be this emotionally stunted asshole, and Ian knows that he regrets not giving Ian his full-fledged attention back when things were bad. But they were moving forward. It’s just a pity they had to leave some things behind.

“Why do I always push? I have absolutely no concept of space,” Ian says.

“You’ve always been determined, kid. It’s who you are,” Lip tells him.

“And selfish. Inconsiderate. Opportunistic,” Ian continues. There are certain qualities about him that he _hates_.

“Ian, you’re _not_ ,” Lip says.

“Did you know that red-heads actually _do_ have fiery tempers? It’s not a myth. It’s scientifically proven,” Ian mumbles.

“Well there goes my thesis paper. I was working on protecting your lot,” Lip attempts to joke.

“That was terrible. Stop. Just tell me what a shit person I am,” Ian insists.

“You’re not. And just go apologize if it bothers you so much,” Lip shrugs. Ian could do that. In any case, it would be better than this downward spiral his brain was going through.

He was going to go settle things with Mickey.

Maybe.


	2. They Build Buildings So Tall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I _knew_ it. Whaddya want, Gallagher?" Mickey says with a smirk.  
>  Ian loves that smile. But then again it's really hard not to love every little thing about this boy. "Yev," he states. "I hate not seeing him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [pyleas](http://pyleas.tumblr.com) for betaing <3

Ian Gallagher is a bit of a coward. He has spent an entire week avoiding Mickey, which is a terrible idea since his brain has decided to come up with a set of worst-case-scenarios and now all he can think of are ways that Mickey will slam the door to his apologies. His mopey form had taken a constant residence in the Gallagher house,  and Debbie finally put her foot down and practically shoved him out of the door. He is not allowed to return until he clears the air with Mickey, which is why he is currently standing outside the abandoned building, contemplating his opening line.

"I'm sorry," Ian mumbles as he approaches Mickey. There are cigarette butts on the floor indicating that the brunet's been here for at least a while.

"You're apologizing?" Mickey asks, a bit surprised. The weather is getting colder and Mickey flicks his cigarette to the ground.  His hands are covered in tattered fingerless gloves, and he just tilts his head with a questioning glance towards Ian.

"Yeah. I was out of line. I'm sorry I keep pushing," Ian says with a tender smile that he hopes looks genuine.

Mickey cocks one eyebrow up. He knows Ian very well and there is something else going on.

"Do you accept it?" Ian asks when Mickey doesn’t say anything for a while. He can see Mickey considering it. The way his eyes search Ian's face.

He gives a short nod. "Fuck it. Apology accepted."

"There's something else," Ian mumbles. And he watches as Mickey's face breaks into a knowing grin.

"I  _knew_  it. Whaddya want, Gallagher?" Mickey says with a smirk.

Ian loves that smile. But then again it's really hard not to love every little thing about this boy. "Yev," he states. "I hate not seeing him."

Mickey's grin twists into this sad smile. "Ian, I know I'm  _shit_ with words, but even if you don't want to be friends , it doesn’t change the fact that you're still fucking family."

And Ian's heart soars at those words because they just mean  _so_ much to him. "Thank you," he softly says.

"You know nothing is keeping you away from him, right? Whatever shit is going on between us doesn't mean you can't see him. You can  _always_  see him, Ian," Mickey let's out.

And Ian's face breaks out into a smile. "Really?" He asks earnestly.

"Yes, really," Mickey indulges him.

"Cool," Ian replies, the grin still ever present. "And Mick?"

Mickey looks up at him. "Yeah?"

"I really do want to be friends," Ian says.

*

"Haven't seen you here in a while," Mickey comments as Ian walks into the Alibi. It's quite late and Mickey was just about to head home.

"l  _really_ needed a drink," Ian says as he slumps into the stool next to Mickey. The redhead shrugs off his coat, and Mickey can see he's dressed up in his nice red Henley. Mickey signals at Kev, who refills his beer and slides a pint to Ian.

"So how was your night?" Mickey nudges Ian.

"You wouldn't wanna hear about it," Ian replies.

"Try me," Mickey insists.

"Okay, so I had this date tonight-" Ian starts tentatively. He looks at Mickey, as though he is waiting for him to object, but the brunet motions for him to continue. "It was just a complete shitshow."

"That sucks," Mickey attempts to say empathetically. But there's obviously a part of him that is very glad Ian's date was crap.

"Yeah."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Mickey gently asks. Mickey doesn't want to hear about it (not one bit), but he is trying to be more supportive after all.

"Well, to start off, Umbert was a half hour late. After finally fucking ordering I head to the bathroom, and by the time I come back I find out the fucker has sent my meal back, claiming 'it didn't look good'. Then the idiot eats his meal in front of me while I'm waiting. He also keeps on putting his broccoli on my plate, saying 'I really wanna watch you eat this'. I mean-"

"You  _hate_ broccoli," Mickey interrupts him.

"I think I hate him more. He also told the waitress to take my drink away, claiming he didn't want me to make a fucking scene. He doesn’t even  _know_ me. Why does he think I'm going to make a scene?" Ian exclaims.

"So you're not seeing him again?" Mickey quips.

Ian narrows his eyes. " _No,_ I'm not seeing him again."

"Good. You deserve better."

Mickey doesn't know what he said to piss Ian off, but suddenly Ian's glaring daggers at him.

"You don't get to say that to me anymore."

"Ian--"

" _No._  'You deserve  _better_ '? It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to whoever the fuck you're fucking," Ian lashes out. His face is flushed and his jaw is clenched. Mickey wishes that he could take those words back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Mickey mumbles.

"I know. I just can't hear those words from you anymore," Ian relents. He's calmed down slightly, and Mickey takes that as a positive sign.

"I'll see you later?" Mickey asks as he adjusts his coat back on.

"Yeah."

*

Ian gets to watch over Yevgeny on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays after his 12 o'clock class at Malcolm X lets him out. Both Svetlana and Mickey are working, and he would be lying if he said that this isn't his favorite part of the week. Ian loves the little guy more than anything in the world, even though he's teething and screaming his lungs out. The redhead shudders when he remembers the weeks when no one would let him stay with Yev alone.

Ian hands Yev one of his teething toys, which Yev shoves into his mouth, quieting down a little. He's snivelling, with a mixture of tears and saliva running down his face, and Ian's heart aches with the need to make it better.

"Shh," Ian runs a soothing hand over Yev's back and whispers comforting words. "I'm sorry you're hurting, kid."

The redhead walks around the house with Yev in his arms, spewing nonsensical words and letting his voice calm Yev down the same way he does when Liam has a nightmare and can't sleep.

Ian hates this house sometimes; the way everything is achingly familiar, but  _wrong_ because none of Ian's stuff is here anymore and Ian just cannot understand how it was so easy to cut him out of this house- as if his presence in Mickey's life is so insignificant. Ian knows this isn't fair, and it  _isn't_  true. They are still friends and that relationship has to _mean_ something, it  _has_  to be enough for Ian, because he knows he's never going to get to taste Mickey's mouth early in the morning when its tingled with peppermint and vodka, or late at night when he smells like cigarettes and  _home_.

When Yev finally falls asleep on Ian's shoulder, Ian puts him down in the crib in Svetlana's room before padding across to the couch in the living room. One of Mickey's sweaters is lying on the couch and Ian puts it on (because he's  _cold,_  of course. Not because he's turned into a pathetic teenager who can only find comfort in his boyfriend's clothes, and in the familiarity of the material that has been pressed against his body in so many ways).

Ian doesn't realize he has fallen asleep until he hears the front door slam and Mickey is making his way towards him, rubbing at tired eyes. The redhead scrambles his legs closer towards himself so there's place on the couch for Mickey to slump down into.

"Sorry, I fell asleep," Ian says.

"It's fine," Mickey murmurs, and Ian can see the way his blue eyes trace the sweater Ian had forgotten to take off.

"Er-Sorry. It was cold. I didn't-"

"Don't worry about it, Gallagher," Mickey mumbles.

"Right. So-um-how was work?" Ian asks.

"Fucking pain. Don't wanna talk about it," Mickey shrugs. He had recently taken up a part-time job in construction, in addition to the shit he had going on at the Alibi. "How was Yev?"

"Perfect. Well that’s a lie. He's teething, so he's a bit of a pain," Ian tells him.

"I know. Fucker won't shut up at night. I fucking barely get hours to sleep as it is," Mickey grumbles, as he stifles a yawn.

"I should go. Let you rest," Ian says, beginning to get up.

"Ian?"

"Hmm?"

"You're- you're really good with the kid," Mickey says, looking down at his hands.

"Thank you," Ian acknowledges.

"I'm so- so happy _?_ Yeah,  _happy_. That he has you," Mickey continues, his voice slightly hitching.

"I  _want_  to be here," Ian tells him.

"I know that. But still," the brunet replies. Ian knows there's something else bugging Mickey. He can read the man like a book.

"Are you-Is everything okay?" Ian gently asks. He sits back down and faces Mickey, who still refuses to look at him. Ian wants to reach out to him and comfort him, but he hasn't really held Mickey like that in months.

"Everything's fucking peachy," Mickey mumbles.

"Really?" Ian continues to prod.

" _Why_ does me complimenting your parenting mean that there's something fucking wrong?" Mickey growls back defensively.

"I  _know_  you," Ian simply tells him.

"I was just trying to be  _nice."_ Mickey runs his hands over his face, and Ian gives him a minute to sort out his thoughts. "Fuck. I'm not  _good_ at this sort of shit."

"Talking?"

" _No_. The kid." He mumbles, looking down at his hands. "I don't--I can't-"

"Mickey. You're  _fine_." Ian cuts him off grabbing Mickey's hands. "You're better than fine. Shit with Yev is complicated. And it doesn't make you a bad father. You get that right?"

Mickey finally looks up at him, shaking his head in frustration. "You don't get it. It's just- it's not that easy for me."

"It shouldn't have to be. But you're doing amazing," Ian says earnestly. "I'm  _so_  proud of you."

Mickey still looks completely dejected, and Ian knows that the brunet doesn’t believe him. But Ian will keep on repeating these words until someday he does. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listen to too much Regina Spektor and apparently Umbert has to be in every single story I write. I'm planning on (hopefully) posting this every two days so that it gets done before Season 5.


	3. In The Backyard Drinking Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, Mick?" Ian asks softly. He knows that this line of questioning could be hazardous, but Ian Gallagher had an affinity for risk.  
> "Yeah?" Mickey replies with a questioning glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [pyleas](http://pyleas.tumblr.com) for betaing <3

"So did you read Ian's article in _The Herald_?" Mandy asks Mickey. Ian has been working for the university newspaper, and he finally succeeded in getting an article published.

"Yeah, it was great, wasn't it?" Mickey replies proudly. "Wasn't it really fascinating the way that graduation rates at Malcolm X are rising?"

"Urm. _Fascinating_ isn't exactly the term I would use," Mandy replies cautiously, fiddling with her long locks.

"Yeah but _I_ think that it's fucking great how the school has decided to shift its focus towards the student's wellbeing," Mickey says enthusiastically.

"Yeah. It's nice to see Ian's getting a good education," Mandy agrees.

"And the graduation rate has increased from seven percent to _thirteen_ percent. Isn't that fucking amazing?" Mickey continues.

"Mick, _how_ many times have you read that article?" Mandy wonders out loud.

"A couple times," Mickey says with a shrug, the corners of his ears turning slightly red. He might have read it more than 'a couple' of times, but Mandy doesn’t need to know that. Ian's words just flow so effortlessly, and even though the article was supposed to be about boring stuff, it really did captivate Mickey's attention.

"Really?"

"Get off my ass, Mands," Mickey grumbles, as he crosses his arms. He knows he's acting defensive, but Mandy likes to pretend she knows what he's feeling better than he does (she _doesn't)._

"Remind me why you guys aren't together again?" Mandy asks, pursing her lips.

"That's not fucking fair, Mandy," Mickey mumbles. He _hates_ this conversation, and recently everyone is on his case about it.

"Why the fuck not?"

_"Because."_

"You pine, he pines, buy a fucking pine tree. It's exhausting watching you two," Mandy snarks back at him.

"Stop pushing," Mickey says. He knows there's lingering feelings between him and Ian, but they're not _those_ types of feelings. It's more like post-relationship blues.

"Well, then stop being a pussy," Mandy replies.

"There are other things to consider. The world isn't fucking perfect and not everyone can just drop everything and fall in love again," Mickey insists.

"Again?" Mandy asks, rolling her eyes. "I don't really think you fell _out_ of it in the first place."

Mickey massages his temples in annoyance. Talking to Mandy is so frustrating and he's so fucking tired of how no one will just let him _move on._

"It didn't work last time. I don’t think its supposed to," Mickey says, and he hopes that the tone of his voice means that this discussion is over. Mandy looks like she's about to argue further, but then they hear Yev's voice crying from Svetlana's room. Mandy just sighs and shrugs as she brings Yev out of the room. They settle on the couch, and Yev starts gurgling nonsensical syllables.

"Mandy...what did the kid just say?" Mickey asked her with a warning tone in his voice. He could see Mandy's face flush in embarrassment and maybe even guilt?

Yev was currently pointing to a picture of a certain red-head, squirming in Mandy's arms. "Pa...pa?" He says uncertainly.

"He did it again! What the fuck is going on?" Mickey asks.

"No swearing, ass-munch," Mandy glares at him. She's deflecting, and Mickey knows it.

"Why is what he is doing happening?" Mickey asks.

Now Mandy is squirming uncomfortably. "It happened by mistake. He just _can't_ pronounce Ian. And he was fumbling around with weird sounds and then he said something along the lines of _those_ syllables and I guess I was so happy that he thought it must have been the right answer. I swear we've been trying to get him to not say that!"

"Mandy. Yev can't call Ian that. We're in a strictly nothing-is-ever-going-to-happen-between-us zone. This fucks that up!" Mickey whines.

They both turn their heads as the door swings open and Ian comes in, his cheeks pink from the cold. There's a slight shiver in him. Mickey cocks one eyebrow up and scans Ian's attire. "Forgot your gloves and a scarf," Mickey says as he clucks disapprovingly.

Ian rolls his eyes and just shrugs him off. "So how's it going? You on your way out?"

"I was. And then my world turned upside down," Mickey says with a hard voice.

 _"Now_ who's being dramatic," Ian quips.

"You don't know the situation. You don't get to judge. Mandy tell him what happened!" Mickey orders her.

Mandy rolls her eyes. "He kind of figured out what Yev calls you," she says with a smirk.

Ian goes a strange shade of orange and begins focusing intently on his nails. Mickey crosses his arms accusingly. "You knew? You dick! You _know_ he can't call you those words. Fix this!"

"Mick I'm sorry. I didn't even know until two days ago. And I've been trying to get him to call me Ian but it's clearly not working," Ian gushes out.

Mickey lets out a frustrated snort. He can't believe his luck. He just wants a somewhat clean break from this red-head, but obviously he is still treading in dirt from it.

"Do you want me to leave? I didn't mean to overstep- I mean I don't want this to be uncomfort- I don't even know what I'm saying. Mickey!" Ian pleads.

"It's just- now this is awkward. Like everything about us. You can stay. Obviously. But let's all try to get him to stop saying those syllables-that-cannot-be-said," Mickey grudgingly says.

Yev squeals suddenly, and captures all of their attention. He's reaching out for the redhead, and Ian approaches him, cautiously, the whole time glancing at Mickey to make sure he's okay. Mickey rolls his eyes with a half-smile.

"I gotta get to work. You guys figure how to fix this fucking mess. And Ian, there's an extra pair of gloves in that second drawer," Mickey says, staring pointedly to Ian.

Ian grunts and flips him off.

*

Ian Gallagher has always thought that clowns were friendly, balloon-making allies of his. Usually they spread so much joy around, but at this very particular moment he is terrified. It's completely dark and all he can see is the clown's neon red hair and Glasgow smile. Ian doesn't know _why_ this clown has decided to chase him with a knife, and he can feel the clown gaining on him. Might as well give up, right?

"Gallagher?" a familiar voice says as Ian feels someone nudging him. The redhead lets out a disgruntled sound, and realizes that he must have fallen asleep.

"Mick?" Ian softly asks.

"Falling asleep on the job again?" Mickey inquires, amused.

Ian rubs at his eyes and stretches his legs out. "Fuck off. Shit, what time is it?"

"Nearly seven. Are you staying for dinner?"

"Urgh I can't," Ian says apologetically. "Fiona would have my ass. Can't skip out on family dinner again."

Ian starts to head towards the door. He'd left his coat crumpled on the floor. Something has been bugging him all day, and he knows that the only person who might have an answer is Mickey.

"Hey, Mick?" Ian asks softly. He knows that this line of questioning could be hazardous, but Ian Gallagher had an affinity for risk.

"Yeah?" Mickey replies with a questioning glance.

"Do you, ummm- do you- see-" Ian starts.

"Spit it out, Gallagher," Mickey sighs.

"Do you remember our last kiss? I keep trying to picture it but I'm running a blank," Ian whispers. It sucks because he feels like this is an important memory, and he should _know_ it.

Mickey looks a bit shocked, and stares at Ian with wide eyes.

"Never mind. It was a stupid question," Ian mumbles. He quickly heads out of the door, and welcomes the cold Chicago winter. Ian let's out a sigh. It wasn't like he expected Mickey to remember it.

And then he hears Mickey rushing out behind him.

"You'd just gotten out of the shower, with that stupid towel wrapped around your waist. And I was getting mad because you're a shit dryer and there was a trail of water all the way to our room. Like always. And you just _looked_ at me. Then you ruffled my hair, and pecked my lips. It was short- and soft, like-" Mickey gushed out.

"Like I expected to do it every morning," Ian says with a wistful smile. And he can kind of picture it. His throat is tight and he wants to say something else but he just can't.

"Yeah," Mickey acknowledges with a nod.

"Thanks," Ian says, attempting to make his voice steady.

"No, it's fine," Mickey says with a shrug. And the brunet is looking right at him and his life just sucks because he really should be able to wrap his arms around Mickey, but that's not allowed.

"But still-" Ian starts.

"I'm going to head back in," Mickey says at the same time, a shiver running down his body. He'd left his coat inside.

"Right. I'll see you on Monday?" Ian asks.

"Monday," Mickey confirms.


	4. The Words Cut My Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian nods and gets two cigarettes from his pack out. He puts both cigarettes into his mouth and lights them. It's intoxicating how beautiful the redhead looks in the evening light. And Mickey has to will his fingers from reaching out and touching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [pyleas](http://pyleas.tumblr.com) for betaing <3

Nowadays Ian Gallagher feels like he has some semblance of control in his life, and it's a good feeling. He often cringes at the stupid shit he did when he was manic, or the thoughts that crossed his mind when he was depressed. He's not delusional, and he knows things could easily go haywire again, but for now he's comfortable. Everything was going well until Mandy casually said these words:

"Yeah, Mickey let that Mark guy babysit Yev yesterday."

"What, why?" Ian asks incredulously.

"God fucking knows. I don't think Yev likes him much, though," Mandy replies. And then she notices that Ian rubbing the nape of his neck, eyes wide in distress. "Hey, I'm _sure_ it doesn't mean anything."

"I could have skipped class, you know? If Yev needed me," Ian mutters.

"I know that, Ian."

"Does Mickey know that?" Ian asks.

"Of course he does," Mandy snaps at him as though he's being childish. Maybe he's feeling a little petty but this is his territory.

Mickey walks through the door and pauses, eyeing Ian and Mandy warily, as though he can sense the tension.

"The fuck did I miss?" Mickey slowly asks.

 _"You_ deal with this," Mandy says, pointing at Mickey. "Your boyfriend's jealous."

"He's _not_ my boyfriend," Mickey quickly replies.

"I'm _not_ jealous," Ian says at the same time.

Mandy huffs and puts her hands up in the air as she walks away.

Mickey sits down hesitantly next to Ian. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

Ian sighs, rubbing at his eyes tiredly before looking at Mickey, who is staring at him expectantly.

"I'm not jealous," Ian tells him. But he knows that’s a lie. He can identify that hot, bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the tight constriction of his chest. He's somewhat come to terms with Mickey never becoming his, but losing Yev hurts in a whole new way.

"I'm _not._ It's just--with Mark--"

"Ian. It wasn't like that. They had another shift available, and it was good money. Mark was just with me, and he offered to look after Yev last minute," Mickey attempts to explain himself.

"Yeah. It's none of my business anyways," Ian tries to say indifferently. Funny thing is, he had never considered someone else taking his place in the Milkovich family unit.

"It shouldn't even really matter anyways," Mickey continues. "He broke it off with me. Said something about how he 'can't be a second choice'. Which is really fucking stupid because he wasn't even a _choice_ to begin with."

Ian grins at that. He feels slightly better knowing that Mark is out of Mickey's life. But there are so many other guys that could eventually be a part of the brunet's life. So many guys that aren't him.

 _"Why_ the fuck he thought we were a thing, God knows. I made it fucking clear it was nothing," Mickey continues to grumble.

Ian figures that is the best he can hope for now.

*

Mickey Milkovich doesn't have to look up from his phone to know that Ian Gallagher has entered the diner. Mickey's body is so in tune with the redhead's that he can tell when Ian is approaching. Maybe it's the lavender scent of Ian's favourite cologne, or his husky voice, or just the way that he _moves._ So Mickey takes a calming breath that he always seems to need before any encounter with Ian. 

"Hey," Mickey says, as he looks up at Ian. The redhead slings his book bag on the floor and takes a seat at Mickey's table. "Done with classes?"

"Yeah. Thought I'd  stock up on coffee before heading home. Need to finish a fucking paper and I've left it so last minute," Ian whines.

"When's it due?" Mickey asks.

"Friday," Ian whimpers.

"That's two days, kid. You got this," he replies. 

"I just- I don't want to screw it up," Ian says.

"You won't. You're the most determined person I know," Mickey assures him and Ian lets out a small smile.

"Thanks."

"Anyways. You got time for ice-cream?" Mickey asks.

"I really shouldn't," Ian replies, looking haunted by his term paper.

"It'll be an hour, tops. _And_ you look like you need to let off steam," Mickey reasons with him. If there's one thing Ian Gallagher cannot deny, it's Mickey Milkovich. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that they grab their things from the diner and begin to head towards Sugar Shack. Ian lets Mickey lead the way, following a step behind the brunet.

It really shouldn't be so comfortable between them. People with their history can't just fit into each others lives so easily. But there is no denying that walking with Ian at this very moment is probably the most calm Mickey has felt all day. Plus, the redhead stressed too much, and Mickey was certain that ice-cream would help him unwind a bit.

"So, is this a date?" Ian asks from behind him.

 _"No,"_ Mickey snaps. They never really dated. Even when they were together. "It can be a non-date. Between friends."

"Wow. My first ever non-date. I'm glad it's with you," Ian teases. They enter the shop and Mickey already orders both of them mint-chocolate chip ice-cream. "You can't pick my flavour, Mick."

"Fuck off, I'm paying," Mickey replies. He hands Ian his cone, and they head towards the broken swing-set in the park. It used to be a regular occurrence for them when they attempted being a family with Yev. And now they were just tracing the steps of old memories. By the time they reach the swing-set, Mickey's hand is completely sticky with melted ice-cream, so he just throws the rest of it away. "Got a smoke?"

Ian nods and gets two cigarettes from his pack out. He puts both cigarettes into his mouth and lights them. It's intoxicating how beautiful the redhead looks in the evening light. And Mickey has to will his fingers from reaching out and touching him. He takes the cigarette from Ian's hand and thinks about how it was around Ian's lips a few seconds ago.

"Hey Mick! You're really smokin'," Ian exclaims as he nudges him.

"Gallagher, are you trying to seduce me?" Mickey asks. He knows this is dangerous territory and that it sounds like he's flirting, but recently he's feeling more open to this idea.

"Naah. Just stating the obvious," Ian counters, shamelessly. Mickey stares at the ground, avoiding Ian's gaze. He can feel the soft smile tugging the corner of his lips, and Ian's words really shouldn't have such an effect on him. Ian clears his throat, and Mickey finally looks up at Ian, who is staring intently at him.

"We should probably head back," Ian says, standing up before reaching a hand out to pull Mickey up.

*

"Get a drink for Whiskey here! And another for me," Mickey hollers at Kev, who in turn looks incredibly tired of Mickey.

"You're fucking wasted, Mick," Ian tells him as he scoots into the barstool next to Mickey.

"Shut up, Whiskey," Mickey mumbles.

"What's with the new nickname?" Ian asks.

"Figured you needed one. You know, whiskey makes me do stupid things. And _you_ make me do stupid things. So you're my whiskey," Mickey concludes with a winning smile.

"It's a metaphor?" Ian eggs Mickey on.

"Whiskey should really just shut the fuck up about English," Mickey says, pouting. "Bartender! Hurry the _fuck_ up. Make that two shots of whiskey for me. And more peanuts!"

Kev lets out an exaggerated sigh from the other end of the table as he begins to pour their drinks. "Are you sure you want these?"

 _"Said_ I did, didn't I? Fucking hell," Mickey scowls at Kev.

"Should you be having more?" Ian asks, worried.

"Fuck off, _Mom,"_ Mickey says with a grin. And then he starts laughing at his pathetic insult.

Ian just shakes his head fondly. "Is there a reason for this?"

"Naah. Paycheck day. Extra cash," Mickey says with a shrug.

"Not that he ever pays," Kev butts in.

"I practically run this place. So back the fuck off, Kevvy Fed," Mickey glowers.

"Ian, get him outta here, would ya?" Kev begs the redhead.

"Mick? Do you wanna head home now?" Ian asks.

"With you?" Mickey inquires.

"I'll drop you off, come on tough guy," Ian says, pulling Mickeys arm over his shoulder and leading him out of the bar.

Ian tries his best to guide Mickey home, but Mickey makes the task impossible, and they stop when Mickey stumbles over his shoelaces.

"You're my best friend, and it sucks, Ian, because I want to do some very un-bestfriend-like things to you," Mickey murmurs as he brings his hands to Ian's shoulders in an attempt to steady himself. Ian's heart his thudding at earthquake levels, and he wonders if Mickey would ever say these things if he wasn't so drunk.

Mickey leans up and Ian holds his breath. He then brings up his calloused hand and strokes Ian's jawline with his thumb. Ian's forehead is resting against Mickey's as their breathing synchronizes. Mickey begins to kiss his jaw softly, and Ian squeezes his eyes shut and attempts to stay still. He doesn’t want to scare Mickey off- he doesn't want this moment to end.

Mickey starts to leave kisses on his neck, and then traces a vein with his tongue, and Ian _whimpers._ It's time to pull away but Ian just doesn’t want to. And all of a sudden Mickey just locks his lips with Ian's and it's perfect. Mickey's hands rest on Ian's neck, trying to pull him in closer, and his tongue forces Ian's mouth open as Ian lets out a soft moan.

Ian is so sick and _tired_ of all these feelings and desires.

"Mick, stop," Ian mutters between breaths. Mickey just ignores him and continues kissing. _"Mick."_

"Do you not want me anymore?" Mickey asks. He's biting his lower lip, and Ian desperately just wants to get back to kissing Mickey. The brunets lip's shouldn’t be able to contort like that.

"Not-not when you're like this," Ian grimaces.

"Tomorrow then?" Mickey asks hopefully.

"Hmm" Ian replies, noncommittally. And he wishes he could tomorrow. But Mickey will forget this conversation, and Ian will regret not saying yes. The right thing to do sucks.

They walk the rest of the way in silence, and Ian can still taste the flavor of Mickey's cigarette on the back of his tongue.


	5. Call It Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You think you make me _worse_?" Ian asks forcefully. He's just completely livid. "That's fucking _bullshit._ "  
> "What are you on about?" Mickey asks him, his brows furrowing in confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [pyleas](http://pyleas.tumblr.com) for betaing and listening to all my crap.

The past seven months have been a bit weird for Mickey Milkovich. It's the longest he has gone without Ian's dick in him (overlooking the times he was in juvie). But then again, he's come to appreciate his relationship with the redhead on a whole other level. And they've built this completely new type of a connection that he's pretty sure most people wouldn’t even understand. He's glad they aren't one of those tragic Romeo-and-Juliet like couples. That would have been incredibly…suffocating.

But he's not under some illusion that they are the best of friends. He remembers last night, and he can't help cringing when he thinks about how he threw himself at the redhead (and then got  _rejected_ ). Even though he called Ian his best friend, that is a complete  _lie._ His feelings towards the redhead were definitely  _not_ platonic.

He flicks his lighter on and off until he finally drags a cigarette out of his pack. He has never really liked the flavor of Camel filters (it's too harsh and heavy). And it's weird and pathetic and Mickey knows that. Changing the brand of his cigarettes just to taste like Ian again. But he craves that familiarity. And as he inhales the scent, he can't help but feel comforted. There's a lump forming in his throat and it's hard to swallow. He just misses Ian so much. 

"The fuck are you wallowing about, douchewaddle?" Mandy asks as nears the couch Mickey is lying on. She's dressed in her ugly orange waitress outfit, ready for her night shift.

"Nothing," Mickey replies.

"Whatever."

"Mandy? Do you think--Ian?" Mickey stutters. He has no idea why the fuck he speaks before his thoughts have formed.

"What?"

"Do you think there's still something there?" Mickey finally asks.

"You mean besides the fact that you're both gone for each other?" Mandy asks in a too-sweet tone. The bemused smile on her face makes Mickey glare at her.

"Go away."

"Just fuck already," Mandy beams at him.

"Maybe," Mickey replies with a hard, obvious swallow. Mandy lets out a loud squeal of excitement as she claps her hands. "Stop! Fuck, you're gonna make me deaf."

"I gotta go but we're discussing this when I get back," Mandy says with a bright smile.

*

Ian fists are going to bruise with how hard he's knocking the Milkovich front door. But he's so fucking pissed, and he doesn't care that its late and dark. He  _needs_  to see Mickey.

The door opens to an offended Mickey Milkovich, and that just makes him angrier.

"The fuck, Gallagher? You okay?" Mickey scowls up at him as he shoves his way into the house.

"Guess what Lip just told me?" Ian asks him, trying his hardest to keep his tone down.

"Fuck should I know? Not a fucking mind reader here," Mickey says defensively.

"You think you make me  _worse?_ " Ian asks forcefully. He's just completely livid. "That's fucking  _bullshit_."

"What are you on about?" Mickey asks him, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Lip. He mentioned something about you thinking  _you_  make me worse. The fuck does that even  _mean_?" Ian asks, nearly in hysterics. His hands are shaking and he doesn’t know if he's being overdramatic but why does everyone in his life insist on babying him?

"Ian-" Mickey starts to say.

"Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?" Ian demands as he crosses his arms.

"Fucking Lip. Fucker can't keep a fucking  _thing_  to himself," Mickey grumbles to himself.

"Both of you are so high on my shit-list," Ian talks over Mickey's mumbling. "Is that why you're staying away?"

Mickey takes a deep breath, and rubs his temples. "A bit. Lip agreed with me. Ian-"

"Fucking self-sacrificing  _idiot._ You talk to  _me_ about this shit. Not Lip. I'm so fucking _done_ with people making decisions for me," Ian yells. "This is  _my_ thing. My actions--everything I did-- it's  _my_  responsibility. It's not fair to either of us if you want to believe that you're at fault for this."

"You don't get it, Ian," Mickey tries to interject.

" _I_ don't get it?" Ian asks incredulously. There were  _a lot_  of shit things Ian had done. "I'm sorry about taking Yev, I'm sorry about buying that plane ticket, I'm sorry about all the money I took, I'm-"

"Fuck, Ian, stop! It was never about any of that. We all just wanted you to be better. And us being  _us_  wasn't working very-"

" _You_  didn't make me do any of that.  _How_  can it be your fault? There was no fucking gun to my head," Ian gushes out.

Mickey flinches at that and Ian knows that the last sentence was a big mistake. "Shit-Mick. I'm sorry. That didn't come out right."

And now on top of all the emotions already going through Ian, there was the guilt that always came whenever he reminded Mickey of Terry.

"It's in the past," Mickey waves him off. The brunet still looks a bit distressed as he runs his hand through his hair.

" _Why_ didn't you just talk to me?" Ian desperately asks.

"You were making shit decisions.  _I_ didn't want to be one of  your shit decisions," Mickey mumbles.

"You know how sorry I am about all the shitty things I said? I just- I wanted  _so_ badly to be that fifteen-year old kid you fell in love with. I wasn't on my meds. I was so reckless, Mick," Ian whispers.

"I know, Ian."

"Mick, I'm tired. And I know I'm a constant work-in-progress and being with me isn't easy. I  _know_  that. But I know what I want." Ian tells him. He wants Mickey to be in every aspect of his life. He just wants to wake up in the mornings to Mickey's off-key humming, go to school knowing he was coming back home to Mickey, and fall asleep with his lips on the crook of Mickey's neck. 

"Do you honestly think I can't handle relationships? Or do you think I can't handle being with you?" Ian gently probes.

Mickey just shrugs and sits down on the couch, and Ian follows his suit. "Are we completely done? I know I said I wasn't going to wait, but I kinda am. But I'm also _tired_ of waiting." Ian doesn't care anymore if he's pushing. He just wants to settle this once and for all. Maybe this would finally be closure, but he really hopes that isn't the case.

"You done?" Mickey asks in a strained voice. Ian nods, and braces himself for Mickey's words. "You're right and I'm sorry."

And Ian doesn't know what to do with those words. But Mickey reaches out and takes his hand, and maybe that's enough. He pulls Mickey closer and the brunet curls into him. He inhales that citrus scent he associates with Mickey and his heart finally starts pacing at a normal level.

"I should have- _we_ should have worked harder at this," Mickey slowly says. "But are you sure you want to get into this again? You've been so much better at getting your life together without me."

And Ian has no idea why Mickey would believe that. "You think I did all this without you? You were always there, Mick."

Mickey smiles at that. "We sucked at being broken up, right?"

"You're just so integrated in my life I don’t think we ever really broke up. We just stopped fucking," Ian comments.

"Fucking pity," Mickey agrees.

"We can be good at this. Healthier," Ian continues. He can see Mickey beginning to give in, and maybe with a couple of right nudges, he can convince Mickey to see the light.

"Ew. Like runs in the morning and giving up smoking?" Mickey scrunches his nose in disgust.

" _No._ Just- just talking. More words. Less confusion," Ian murmurs against Mickey's neck, and the brunet shudders.

"Words," Mickey gulps.  "Ian, you're  _the_ best thing I- oh fucking hell. I'm so fucking _bad_  with words and I know I won't ever- I-I don't know  _how_ to say what you mean to me."

Ian leans his forehead against Mickey's, cradling Mickey's face. Mickey's eyes are closed, and Ian's gaze drops down to his lips, wet and slightly parted. Ian hesitantly ghosts his lips over Mickey's, and Mickey groans before pushing back hard against Ian's mouth and  _god_ Ian has missed this. Mickey deepens the kiss, and Ian tilts his head to the side, parting his lips as Mickey pushes his tongue into Ian's mouth. Ian whimpers at the familiarity of Mickey's taste in his mouth, cigarettes and coffee and something intoxicatingly Mickey, as Mickey's tongue curls around his. Ian pulls back, trying to catch his breath, and Mickey makes an annoyed sound.

"You mean a lot to me too, Mick" Ian says softly around Mickey's mouth.

"You know, before you started this tirade, I was coming up with ways I to jump you," Mickey teases lightly.

"So it was all for nothing?"

*

"Just  _fuck_ me Ian," Mickey whimpers. He knows he's pathetic but he can't help it.

"Christ, so fucking  _needy_ ," Ian says as he tugs up Mickey's shirt. And Ian's big hands are finally on his skin, and every touch just burns. Why the fuck did they wait so long?

"'M not  _needy_ ," Mickey whines, and he's lying because he needs this. He really, really needs Ian to be in him. "Fuck, Gallagher,  _hurry_."

Ian tugs on his hair as he starts nipping his collarbone. "I want to do this properly," the redhead whispers against his skin. And Mickey shivers because he's completely gone for Ian.

Ian's hands drop to his Mickey's jeans and in no time Mickey's naked. Which is completely unfair since Ian still has everything on. Mickey points that out, and the redhead shakes his head fondly as he gets rid of his clothes. It's been so long since Mickey's seen Ian like this, and Ian's just so fucking breathtaking. Ian picks him up and Mickey wraps his arms and legs around Ian as the redhead shifts them so that he's left straddling Ian. They're facing each other, and their lips just linger against each other’s mouths. Ian's fingers curl around the back of Mickey's neck and pull him closer.

Mickey's dick is throbbing and he just really needs Ian to touch him. "Ian," he pleads against the redhead’s lips.

Ian finally gets a cue and wraps his hand around Mickey's cock, giving it a squeeze. A silent moan leaves Mickey's lips as Ian gives him a long hard stroke, his thumb tracing the vein as he presses down at just the right spot. Ian remembers every little thing about Mickey's body and it's so nice having someone so in tune with him. He can feel Ian grinning into his neck.

"I missed this," Ian murmurs as he slicks up his index finger with lube. Mickey arches slightly as Ian's finger enters him. He shudders and doesn't know if it's because the lube is cold, or just because it's Ian. He feels so hot and dizzy and completely fucked out even though they just started. Ian gently squeezes his balls as he enters another finger in. Mickey's dick is leaking and he closes his eyes shut and lets Ian take control as he starts to fuck up into Ian's hand. Mickey can feel himself nearing his edge, but Ian's not even in him yet. "Another, Ian. Hurry."

He can feel Ian hard beneath him, and he forces himself to keep his eyes locked on Ian's. Mickey can feel the redhead stroking lube on his sheathed cock, and then Ian guides Mickey down, spreading his ass apart and bringing his hips to line with Ian's cock. Mickey sinks down onto Ian, the burn feeling so  _good_. He bites his lips and Ian grunts back at him.

"So good, Mick. I've been waiting so,  _so_  long," he murmurs. Ian's pupils are completely dilated with arousal and Mickey just can't bring himself to look away. He braces himself against Ian's chest, and starts to rock down on him. There's a bead of sweat running down Ian's neck, and Mickey traces his tongue against it. " _Mickey,"_ Ian whimpers.

"Fuck me, Ian."

Ian's grip on Mickey's waist tightens as he starts to thrust up against Mickey, and there are filthy moans coming from both of them. "C'mon, Mick."

"Right there, Ian. I'm close. So close," Mickey mutters. But to be honest, he'd been close since the moment they started kissing. He gives an embarrassingly loud yelp as Ian hits a certain angle, and Ian continues to fuck him there.

"Yeah, me too," Ian stammers, as he wraps his hand around Mickey's cock and starts tugging on it. He strokes Mickey faster and twists his wrist in a certain angle he that he knows works for Mickey.

Mickey sits down hard as he finally comes, and his hole clenches around Ian's dick. Ian is breathing just as heavily, his face buried in Mickey's neck, as he comes too. Ian holds on tightly like he's afraid Mickey's going to shove him off.

"Gallagher, we need to clean up," he says as he tries to unwrap Ian's arms around him. Ian reluctantly lets go. "I'm not kicking you out," Mickey reassures the ginger.

"Really?" Ian asks with a grin.

"Mandy's going to kill us if she finds out we fucked on the couch," Mickey mutters. "Get up and get in the shower!"

"Can I blow you in there?" Ian asks as takes Mickey's hand and leads him to the bathroom.

"If you must," Mickey replies.

And all of a sudden the past seven months seemed like a bland of grey, and Mickey realizes he wants Ian everywhere. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over and I hope it's a satisfactory ending :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to throw apples (or roses) at me, come find me at [allfifteenknuckles.tumblr.com](http://allfifteenknuckles.tumblr.com)


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